


Lonely Nights

by Mendosuke



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Grief/Mourning, Minor Character Death, Murder, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 18:36:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13576551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mendosuke/pseuds/Mendosuke
Summary: Ernesto has to live with his decisions.





	Lonely Nights

**Author's Note:**

> I cried when I re-read this. Keep in mind this is just my take on what happened after the Chorizo night. Hope you enjoy! Disclaimer: I do not own Coco, I just really love it.

Ernesto knew that what he did was awful, how could he _not_ know? He had just killed his best friend, _his brother_. What could he say to Imelda, who he had watched walking down the aisle as Héctor’s best man, in lieu of his unknown family. Or to Coco, who had called him Tío!  There was nothing he could say, nothing to right the wrong he had committed in his fit of panic. In toasting to a friendship, he had betrayed the very friendship that had pulled him through his childhood. How two young boys without families made a promise to support each other in their struggles to belong somewhere and how he then ruined that by breaking their family apart. It wasn’t too late, he could go and confess everything. Go to the authorities and tell them of his crime. But Héctor was already dead, and his songbook was right there… What was it that Héctor said to Imelda as he left? Something about how he had to _seize the opportunity_?

Well here’s to him seizing this opportunity. He wouldn’t let those songs go to waste, and to do that he had to make them popular around the world. After all, Héctor wanted to perform for the world, in fact, Héctor would have made the entire world his family. He was just that kind of person. Someone who could touch people’s hearts and make them love him through his words. A true poet and a loyal friend. It’s what he would have wanted for them both after all. But what to do with the body? _It’s not Héctor, he’s already dead…there’s nothing there that made up Héctor. His compassion, his prose, his music…. It’s just a corpse_

It’s not like he could just leave it there on the street! So, he reluctantly picked up the body and carried over to the train station. He had promised to walk him there after all. After sneaking around to the back of the station, reminiscent of their first attempts to leave Santa Cecilia, he propped the body up on the back of the train where no one would notice it in the dark of the night. The train would take the body all the way back to their hometown and no one would be any wiser that he had committed the crime. With an imagined toast to Héctor, he turned his back and walked back to the hotel room, whistling the song Héctor had started to play on his guitar. _Never once thinking of the body again._

Unfortunately, the body never made it back to Santa Cecilia. A sharp turn in the tracks threw the body off and into a sandy ditch, enclosing Héctor away from his family for good. Never to be seen by the living again.

* * *

It had been many years since that night and Ernesto de la Cruz was a household name. Everyone knew the songs that he played and while it hurt for him to take the credit from Héctor, he didn’t really need anyone digging up the past. Although, he always wondered why he never got called for Héctor’s funeral. He was his best friend, and while Imelda probably never appreciated him pressuring Héctor to leave with him, he did grow up with them. Didn’t he deserve some closure as well? He was the one that Héctor had betrayed to go back to that life with Imelda. _Couldn’t she just be grateful that Héctor had been willing to give up this life for her? Couldn’t she just see that this life would have been so much better for them all?_

But in the end, it didn’t really matter. He was too busy planning for his next and greatest show to put anymore thought into it. He had recently started to run out of songs and he needed to come up with something fast. _If only, Héctor was still around to get him out of this slump._

As he got ready for the biggest performance of his life, he noticed a young girl swinging on her parent’s arms. She had braids in her hair, just like Coco did! He remembered watching Héctor singing softly to her as he braided her hair, right before they had left. That song was so perfect. It had so much more potential than just a simple lullaby, so he had made some minor adjustments and turned it into a love song. _Remember me…_

It was perfect. That song was perfect for this performance. A tribute to Héctor and what he could have had if he had only just stayed or at least written some more songs. It wasn’t fair to both him and Héctor that this career would be so close to ending. Who cared what the critics thought, he had not yet reached the pinnacle yet. There was so much more that he could do, _that they could have both done_.

He continued to walk around the city before his performance to settle his nerves. He missed the rehearsal, but it didn’t matter. He would give this song the justice it deserved. The justice that Héctor deserved. After this he would go back to Santa Cecilia and visit Héctor’s grave for one last farewell. He would close that chapter of his life. No longer would he haunt his thoughts and actions. He had done everything he could for Héctor and that was that. _Héctor was no longer alive._

He walked on stage amid the applause of hundreds upon hundreds of people and started off the biggest concert of the year. After doing his standard greetings and songs, he gave the que to start the rising of the stage. The last song would showcase his rise to the top and if this was dedicated to Héctor, no one had to know. As he belted out the last few notes, he heard a snap as the bell above him came hurtling down. _I didn’t get to visit his grave._ With a final dong, Ernesto de la Cruz was no more. _Ah, it was too soon for this. He still had so much more to live for._


End file.
